


Burning Bridges

by Kantayra



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-03
Updated: 2007-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark decides to act upon his realizations about Lex in 'Nemesis', small steps that may lead nowhere and everywhere all at once...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Until 'Nemesis' gave us such a delightful glimpse of Clark and Lex actually having an adult conversation, I didn't realize how desperate I was for more. Hence, this little fic about them coming to terms with it. I went for sad, yet possibly one day hopeful, in this one. Who knows how well I did? :P Posted just under the wire before tonight's episode can totally make this non-canonical...

Lex gripped the top of the sugar packet between his thumb and forefinger, shook it twice, then carefully squeezed his fingers down the packet so that every last grain of sugar was at the bottom. That accomplished, he slowly and methodically split open the top along the seam of the glue so that he didn’t tear the paper in the slightest. He then proceeded to, a few grains at a time, tamp the sugar bit by bit into his coffee. When no more was forthcoming, he carefully turned the sugar packet upside-down over his mug and tapped the bottom twice, pouring out any remaining granules. The empty packet was then folded with the precision of origami into a tiny triangle and placed on the edge of the saucer upon which the coffee cup rested. Lex studied the assemblage for a moment, then picked up his stirrer. He swirled three times clockwise, then three times counterclockwise. A ten second pause followed, then he repeated the stirring pattern. When Lex began to stir his coffee for the fifth time, Clark finally _lost_ it:

“What on earth did we ever talk about?” he exclaimed in frustration, keeping his voice low to avoid the half dozen or so patrons of the Talon who knew about The Great Epic Of Clark And Lex and were not so subtly trying to eavesdrop on this latest, baffling chapter.

Lex paused, deliberately set down the stirrer, and countered, “You were the one who called me. I presumed there was something you wished to discuss.”

Clark sighed at the wariness in Lex’s eyes. Obviously, this had been a stupid idea. He should have known better than to think that, after all that had happened, he could just invite Lex out for coffee like the good old days, and they’d be best friends all over again. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe it _was_ too late for him and Lex.

Whatever internal dilemma was on Clark’s face must have struck a chord in Lex because the coldness in his eyes softened – not quite the lingering affection Clark caught a glimpse of when Lex had saved him down in the tunnels, but close enough. “I think,” Lex began cautiously, “that we talked mostly about your endless entanglements with Lana and Chloe. That, and my father’s latest nefarious schemes.” They both winced simultaneously at the inappropriateness of those two topics now. “Also, I seem to recall that I went on at endless lengths about Alexander the Great…” His eyes flicked up to meet Clark’s just for a second before returning to his coffee, hopeful and guarded all at once.

Clark knew a bone when he was thrown one and grinned in response. “I never thanked you for that. You should have seen how well I aced my History AP.”

Lex half smiled at that, and some of the tension in his shoulders faded, just a fraction. “I wish I could have…” he replied wistfully.

Clark coughed and scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh…yeah.” And they were right back to awkward again.

“I think…” Lex began carefully, the words coming out slowly like he was considering each one at length before he let it escape.

“What?” Clark’s question came out more anxious than he intended, but about as anxious as he felt.

“I think that it would be a good idea if we discussed why we’re here,” Lex concluded, staring into the depths of his coffee cup like it held all the answers in the universe.

“I think that’s a good idea, too.” And, wow, this conversation was worse than plucking out Kryptonite splinters.

“Good.”

“Good.” Clark paused. “So?”

Lex blinked at him. “You want to know why I’m here?”

Clark mentally corrected himself. This conversation wasn’t just painful, it was _tediously_ painful. More like sitting through one of Mrs. Barker’s chemistry lectures. “I thought that was the plan?” Now Clark felt all unsure of himself again.

Lex made a little humming noise and nodded to himself before he took a sip of his coffee. If Clark didn’t know better, he’d say that Lex was flustered and trying to come up with something to say. “I came because I was curious.”

Clark nodded. That made plenty of sense. After Clark had basically thrown Lex out of his life and taken up the task of foiling Lex’s every scheme, it must’ve been odd for Lex to receive the call from him this afternoon.

“And,” Lex added, “I was a little bit afraid.” He met Clark’s eyes with that unwavering confidence that had taken over him of late. It was a part of Lex that had always terrified Clark, so much potential for good and evil in just that amount of determination. “I still believe in facing my fears head on, Clark.”

“Okay…”

“And also,” Lex’s tone softened, “because part of me still holds out hope, even after all that’s happened.” Lex looked away at that part. “And now that I’ve told you that, I don’t have anything left to be afraid of, do I?” He promptly retreated back into the ritual of his coffee.

Clark just sat and processed all of that for a moment. Lex had said everything that mattered and nothing important all in one speech. “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “Do you?”

Lex smiled that enigmatic little half smile and took another sip of his coffee. “You tell me. Why are you here today, Clark?”

This was it, the big moment of truth. Clark took a deep breath and went for it. “I was just thinking, after what happened on Thursday…” He could feel his palms sweating on the table and tried to surreptitiously wipe them on his jeans. Lex did him the favor of pretending not to notice. “I just thought that I might have misjudged you.”

“Because I didn’t leave you to die?” Lex inquired blandly. “I would assume you’d expect that of anyone.”

“Yeah, but…” What was it about Lex that made the simplest thing infinitely complicated to explain? “I just… I figured maybe I owed you a second chance.”

Lex considered that. “You honestly thought I would let you die? Is that why you…?” It wasn’t like Lex to leave things hanging like that, but Clark didn’t like any of the options that could fill that gap. ‘Hate’ was such an ugly word.

“No,” Clark hastened to assure him, although a certain part of him couldn’t help but wonder if, at the very least, he’d _wanted_ to hate Lex. That would make his life so much more black and white, and Lex was right about that. He _did_ like a black and white universe. “It was just… What happened on Thursday made me _remember_.”

Lex’s eyes shut for a moment at that last word, like the memories of their old friendship stirred the same fluttering need within him. “And now what?” he asked softly. “You want to be friends again?”

“I want to _try_ ,” Clark insisted. “I feel like I didn’t give you a fair chance before.”

Lex smiled at that, like Clark had said something infinitely amusing. “Clark, we were best friends for _years_.”

“All the more reason why we shouldn’t be enemies now.” Clark often felt like he was floundering in debates with Lex, but that part he knew was true and right, and even Lex seemed to realize it with the way his next objection caught in his throat.

“That part,” Lex finally offered, “I agree with.”

Clark flashed him a blinding smile. “Great.”

Lex looked less than enthusiastic. “It’s not that simple, Clark.”

“No, but the first step is the most important.”

Lex smirked into his coffee.

It took Clark a moment to realize that he sounded like he was channeling his father. The thought brought a pang of loss, but also a deeper sense of rightness. Nothing could ever be wrong with Jonathan Kent as his guide…

“The source of the conflict between us remains,” Lex continued on pragmatically. “Rectifying that would be the actual first step, I think.”

“So, how do we do that?” Clark was still feeling nervous, although less so now that they had actually agreed to talk. Rather than being annoying and tapping fidgeting fingers on the table, Clark reached over for Lex’s empty, folded sugar packet and began toying with the edges. It was symbolic, he figured. Lex had constructed an elaborate, false artifice, and Clark would rip away at it until all that was left was the friend he’d loved once.

“Any antagonism I feel toward you…” Lex stopped, reconsidered. “Let me rephrase. Make that: Any _defensiveness_ I feel toward you stems from your ever-increasing hostility toward me over the years. I find it rather concerning that you would believe your actions worthy of reciprocal homicidal malice.”

Clark looked at him skeptically. “You’ve _never_ wanted to kill me?”

Lex let out a rueful laugh. “Seriously? No. The same way I think ‘I’m going to kill the next person who cuts me off’? Of course. But that’s just frustration, Clark, nothing like what you seem to be feeling.”

Clark wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Lex had just managed to turn the conversation onto the subject of his secrets, hadn’t he? He hesitated for a moment, remembering now just how hard it had been to be Lex’s friend in the first place. Not because he’d loved Lex any less than his other friends – quite the contrary – but Lex was dangerously perceptive and a single misstep could cost Clark everything.

“I don’t know what exactly you’re doing, Lex.” Deflecting attention onto _Lex’s_ secrets seemed like a wise move, in any case. “But I do know that it’s wrong.”

“In the interest of our old friendship, I won’t pretend that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lex countered. “I trust, for one conversation, that you can do the same?”

Clark’s palms were sweating again. It was a fair trade: truth for truth. Or, at least, a lack of denial. But Lex had a way of making even a fair trade come out entirely in his favor. Clark seriously considered walking away for a moment, but there was something to the way that Lex smiled that little self-ironic smile and licked the scar on his upper lip every time he took a sip of his coffee and met Clark’s eyes boldly and shyly all at the same time… It wasn’t until Clark could see all the little details again, more familiar to him than the back of his own hand, that he realized just how much he’d _missed_ Lex.

“All right,” he finally breathed out.

Lex’s smile was almost genuine, but then it turned morose very quickly. “In that case, then, I know that what I’m doing is wrong too.” Never one to neglect to punctuate a dramatic statement, he took a calculated sip of his coffee.

Clark just sat back and blinked at him in disbelief. “Then why on earth are you doing it?” he demanded angrily.

“Why, on _Earth_ , is indeed the imperative question,” Lex agreed. He lifted his napkin off of his lap and tossed it onto the table carelessly. “Can we at least agree that if we’re going to talk about the things we need to talk about, this is _not_ the appropriate place?”

Clark’s hearing tuned in just in time to hear Carrie Wilcock from 11th grade biology – and the biggest gossip at all Smallville High – whisper one of her old rumors about the exact nature of Clark and Lex’s relationship to Jill Patterson. Jill was engaged to Carrie’s brother now, Clark remembered his mom telling him, and Carrie was working at the Dairy Queen in Granville.

Clark put his own napkin on the table. “Let’s go.”

***

When they’d been kids still and had needed to talk, Clark had always just hopped into the passenger seat of one of Lex’s sports cars and they’d driven around the back roads of Smallville, discussing anything and everything. Now, even that had changed.

“I had my driver drop me off,” Lex explained when they stepped out into the crisp evening air.

“My truck’s just around the corner,” Clark offered.

Lex nodded for him to lead the way.

“I never see you driving your cars anymore,” Clark commented sadly. It seemed wrong that Lex should give up something that he’d enjoyed so much.

“I can’t afford such a dangerous hobby these days,” Lex countered.

“Dangerous?”

“You were the one who pulled me out of a river,” Lex reminded him.

Clark couldn’t argue with that. “I guess…”

“And…sabotage has been an increasing concern of late.”

Clark turned to look at him sharply. Lex had his hands buried deep into the pockets of his black coat and was looking straight ahead as he walked, tall and firm. If there were any regrets for the young man he’d once been, Clark couldn’t sense them.

“People are trying to kill you?” he finally asked.

“It comes with the territory.”

“Did you ever think about, I don’t know, _giving up_ the territory?”

Lex’s smile turned shark-like. “Have you ever known me to give anything up willingly, Clark?” he retorted. “Besides, you could always give up the territory too, as it were.”

Clark pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the passenger side door first. “Just so we’re clear… We’re not talking about Lana here, right?”

Lex looked surprised that Clark had even thought it, then amused when he realized how that probably was what any _normal_ ex-friends would mean when they talked in such veiled terms. “No,” he quickly assured Clark.

“Okay, then.” Clark walked around to the driver’s side and let himself in. By the time he’d gotten everything sorted and the truck in gear, Lex was seated neatly in the seat beside him, seatbelt fastened and hands folded in his lap. Clark drove off for nowhere in particular.

“I trust your truck hasn’t been bugged?” Lex asked once the lights of the town faded as they turned the first bend. “So may I be blunt?”

“Nope,” Clark assured him, not even bothering to hide the fact that he had a way of _knowing_ that. “And go ahead.”

Lex turned in his seat so that he was half leaning against the door and half facing Clark. Clark sneaked at glance at him between paying careful attention to the road ahead, and Lex looked younger and more _earnest_ than he had in years. Something about the fact that Lex was really willing to try that hard made his heart speed up in his chest. To think that he’d already given up…

“Our problem,” Lex concluded, “is that we are fundamentally unable to trust each other because we both _always_ keep secrets.”

Clark nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“We tried trusting each other despite the secrets for a little while, but that didn’t work.”

Clark had never been aware that they were doing that, but apparently Lex had somehow inferred that arrangement. “So, now what? We tell each other the truth?”

Lex chuckled in the suspicion in his voice. “I am aware that you’re not an idiot, you know.”

“Just checking.” Clark was starting to smile now, despite himself.

“And I fear you learning my secrets just as much as you fear me learning yours.”

“So… It’s hopeless, then?” Clark demanded.

“No,” Lex corrected, “it just leaves us with limited options. Either we both tell the truth – about _everything_ – or we keep our secrets and don’t trust each other.”

“How does that _not_ mean you’re fishing for secrets?” Clark asked skeptically. “It seems to me that you’re saying it’s that or we’re enemies. And since you just admitted that I’m not an idiot and all…”

“There is another option,” Lex offered speculatively. “We become friends again, but we don’t tell each other secrets and we don’t trust each other.”

Clark blinked. “That’s pretty much the opposite of the definition of friendship, Lex.”

“Is it?”

“It’s not possible.”

“I’ll trust that you know, then. I’m not exactly an expert on these matters.” Lex shifted so that he could see out his window and watched the fields of Smallville turn to black as the sun set.

A silence hung between them, and it wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable silence, just inevitable. Clark let the fields speed past until he could almost imagine he was running between them, and he was innocent again, and the fact that he and Lex loved each other was all that mattered.

“There’s one thing that’s still bothering me,” he finally asked, once the night spread out seemingly endlessly before them. “Why can’t you trust me?”

Lex sighed, like this was a very long, very unpleasant subject. “Maybe you should pull over.”

***

They ended up on the bridge where they’d first met, except that was kind of a lie because Clark had intentionally driven them there, even though he’d made it seem like it had just been the nearest place to stop. If Lex pressed him on it, he wasn’t sure whether he’d lie or not. Luckily, Lex didn’t ask. It was frightening how much of the last six years had been spent thinking exactly that thought. That probably meant that Lex was right, and they’d never trust each other, never be friends again. The thought was sobering.

Lex got out of the truck, stuck his hands back in his pockets, and walked briskly to the stream bank. Spring rains and melting snow had brought the water to a fast rush, and Lex stood for a moment, watching the twinkling of the last gasp of daylight on the water.

Clark watched Lex, silhouetted against the twilight. He made a strong, impressive outline against the Kansas landscape, yet at the same time looked strangely fragile, like the largest trees that were always the ones to snap when a storm struck. He made Clark feel hopeless and protective at the same time, just like he always had, and Clark suddenly wasn’t sure that he wanted this conversation to take place after all.

But it was as inevitable now as the night, and finally Clark followed Lex to the bank where Lex had seated himself on one of the rocks overlooking the water. Clark sat beside him, their thighs brushing, and Lex leaned into him, buried deep within his coat. Absentmindedly, Clark realized that it must be cold and threw in a little shiver with the instinct of someone who’d spent his entire lifetime learning how to pretend to be normal. He wrapped his arms around himself for good measure.

“I told myself once, not too long ago,” Lex began, “that your secrets were none of my business. I was your friend, but if you chose not to trust me, all I could do was accept your choice and trust that you had very good reason for not telling me.”

That was reasonable enough. Clark winced a little because some part of him had still believed that he’d always pulled the wool over Lex’s eyes, but not even his denial had allowed him to fully accept that.

“I had faith in you back then,” Lex continued. “Faith that, no matter what it was you were keeping from me, you still cared about me and had my best interests at heart.”

“That’s true,” Clark insisted. “I did.”

Lex’s laugh was swallowed up by the babbling brook before them. “No, it isn’t. I believe that you _want_ that to be true, even more than I did. But belief means nothing; actions are everything.” Clark would’ve pointed out the irony of that statement, but Lex’s self-depreciating smile let Clark know that Lex had already made the point for him. “I put myself in your hands, Clark. Back then it was just the meteor mutants, so it wasn’t too difficult. And you did try, I’ll give you that.”

Clark could, of course, think of a dozen or so times when he’d failed, some worse than others. But… “That’s not fair. You have to admit, you’ve always had more than your fair share of obsessed psychopaths.”

Lex smirked at him at that. “Oh, I don’t blame you for your failures. Nobody’s perfect, not even you.”

“What, then?” Clark frowned.

“I lost faith in you because, at the end of the day, I couldn’t trust you to keep me safe…not when the price was a risk to your secrets.”

And that, so simply put, took Clark’s breath away. The sound of screams echoed in his ears, wiped from Lex’s memory but still painfully vivid in his own, Lex’s screams as his father shocked him into submission, into this cold shell of a being that he was now. How many times had Clark asked himself, ‘If only I’d risked more, sooner?’ How many more times had his parents assured him, ‘It was the only way to keep your secret safe’?

“I could live with you lying to me,” Lex concluded. “That’s nothing new to me. What I couldn’t do was hand you my life when I knew you valued your secrets more. I would do almost anything for you, Clark, but you found my price. I won’t be a martyr to your cause.”

Clark opened his mouth because he really _wanted_ to argue with that, but he couldn’t think of a single damn thing to say, and a wave of despair crashed through him at the thought that Lex was _right_.

“Now you know how I feel…” Lex smiled sadly. “If I may ask, just for thoroughness’ sake, I presume you have an equally good reason for not trusting me?”

“You hurt people,” Clark retorted automatically. “You do the wrong things. What more reason do you need?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Lex countered. “I’ve had my points to make from time to time, but I’ve never done anything to you that I haven’t genuinely believed would turn out all right.”

“You don’t get to decide that. Because I’m not willing to play a martyr to your cause either, whatever it is.”

Then, so suddenly it almost frightened Clark, the smile left Lex’s face and that hardness filled his eyes once more. “There’s a war coming on, and I can’t fight in it if I don’t know what it is. You know more than I do, I know you do. And it’s fine if you don’t want to help me, but I won’t let you stop me, either. I also can’t stay out of this, because I can’t trust that I won’t end up dead if I don’t fight back.”

“Because fighting back against Fine did you so much good,” Clark countered. At least _that_ he could say something to.

“Not so much,” Lex shrugged. “I can only hope that I’ve met the learning curve. I don’t know what’s out there,” he gazed heavenwards, “but we’ve already seen that Fine is just the beginning. If I have to die for that, better that I do it trying to make a difference than as a blind casualty of war…”

“Zod tried to kill you. He said you were dead, and only he was left.” It was the first time they’d ever mentioned the epic battle that Clark had fought while Zod had possessed Lex’s body, and suddenly it seemed impossibly _strange_ that Lex didn’t even know what had happened. Clark had to wonder sometimes how much of what he felt for Lex was influenced by the heartless eyes Zod had stared through in Lex’s body.

“Oh, I don’t have many illusions these days,” Lex sighed. “But if someone has to go… You have so much more to live for, Clark.”

Clark felt his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, and suddenly he saw how beautiful and broken and heroic and desolate Lex was all in one fell swoop. They’d never felt more alike and more different at the same time. Clark had seen the self-sacrificing part of Lex before, of course, when Lex had dropped that bulletproof vest to save an entire class of kids from Earl Jenkins. Clark hadn’t seen it then, but even that heroic part of Lex that he’d admired then could be twisted too far so that ultimately Lex became what he was now: just as he’d always been, only more so.

“I still want to be your friend,” Clark insisted, those words even more important now than they’d ever been before.

Lex looked sad. Clark had seen virtually every expression on Lex’s face before, but never this one. “I want you to be my friend, too.” Lex’s hand reached out on the rock between them until his thumb was brushing Clark’s wrist. “But you won’t be.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course, I do. For you, the ends never justify the means. That’s who _you_ are. And you can’t change that any more than I can change the fact that I need those means to play on an even remotely level playing field. I’m out of my league – this entire world is out of its league – and I know it. My wits are all I have in my favor.”

Somewhere, in the distance, a dog should have barked. It didn’t, though, and Clark was stuck there with Lex and the stream and the bridge and nothing. “So, what? We just sit around and wait until you do something unforgivable and then I go back to hating you again?”

“That’s the tragedy of it all,” Lex commented half to himself.

Clark elbowed him in the side when it was clear that Lex was becoming trapped in his own thoughts again.

“What? Oh.” Lex shook his head. “See, the thing is, I’ve _already done it_.”

“Done what?” Clark felt dizzy, like everything was spinning out of control.

Lex shrugged. “Everything. Nothing. It doesn’t matter. But something I’ve done is the thing that you’ll never forgive. And, whatever it is, you’ll find out about it, and then all of this,” he gestured between the two of them and the river, “will mean nothing. It’s already over, Clark. It probably has been since the day we were born.” He looked hopeless and resigned and somehow all the stronger for it.

Clark had never wanted to reach out to Lex more. He’d never wanted to run away more, either. “I don’t want to hate you,” he finally said instead.

Lex’s smile was almost warm, and Clark could see that spark in Lex’s eyes, knew then that Lex still loved him in spite of everything. “I don’t want to hate you, either.” His fingers slowly closed over Clark’s wrist, a ghosting touch, and then they were gone.

There was nothing left to say after that, except: “I’ll give you a ride?”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

***

Clark stopped in front of the Talon, where Lex had said that his driver would be waiting. The coffee shop was closed now, and the still from earlier had broken into a strong wind. If Clark knew the weather at all, it would break into rain very shortly. Clark didn’t see Lex’s limo anywhere, and he suddenly got the crazy urge not to let Lex out. They could just drive off into the night, together, and escape it all.

“It would never work,” Lex smiled like he was reading Clark’s mind. Or maybe they just finally knew where they stood, and neither of them really wanted to be there.

“So, Monday,” Clark continued resolutely. “Coffee?”

Lex looked at him like was a particularly peculiar lab specimen.

“If hating each other is inevitable, we might as well get the most out of liking each other while we still can.”

“Always the optimist,” Lex grinned. “I’d forgotten how much I missed that about you.”

“And you’re always the pragmatist, so you can’t possibly refuse,” Clark retorted.

“Touché.” If anything, Lex’s grin just got brighter.

Clark couldn’t imagine ever hating him in that moment. Surely, they’d find a way to work things out if they just tried hard enough?

Lex got out of the truck, and Clark got out with him and walked him to the awning in front of the Talon.

“Remember,” Lex said so softly that Clark was grateful for the superhearing, “I’ll never hate you as much as you think I do. I shouldn’t give you that power over me, but I don’t know how to stop.” He leaned in then, and brushed his lips against Clark’s cheek in a gesture so brief that Clark almost thought that he’d imagined it. “Any time, no matter what you’ve done or think you’ve done…” Lex let his eyes drift closed. “Just tell me you still want to be friends.”

“I will,” Clark promised.

Lex winced the way he’d always used to when he knew Clark was lying.

“Monday,” Clark repeated.

“Of course,” Lex said, but he didn’t sound like he meant it.

Clark reluctantly returned to the truck, and when he checked the rearview mirror, Lex was on the phone, probably calling for his car. Clark would have waited, just to be sure Lex got home all right, but even as he looked, Lex’s limo pulled up behind him. It seemed Lex didn’t need Clark to look out for his safety anymore. If half of what Lex had said about not being able to depend on Clark was true, maybe that was a good thing.

Clark left behind Lex’s car on Main Street and turned towards home. As he drove, the wind broke into rain and sloshed against the wide sweeps of the windshield wipers. In so many ways, rain was a good thing. It washed away all the sludge left behind after winter, made everything new and clean again. It could also, if unchecked, wash away the fields in an unstoppable flood until nothing recognizable remained.

Only the morning would tell what kind of rain this would be.


End file.
